Power Trip - Act 3
Panting, Niki looked around at the carnage she had created. A thought sprang into her mind. A game. Her favorite game. Find the heart; pierce the heart. The tremendous surging power that spread from the amulet to every corner of her Slayer’s body was beyond Stuff, beyond sex, beyond her wildest, drug-induced dreams. Given sufficient motivation, she felt as though she could have crushed the planet she was standing on.
“Knicks,” Pearce said, also panting, but more from exertion than thrill. “How... how the hell did you do that?”
Niki spun around to grin broadly at the one remaining vampire in the alley. Find the heart, pierce the heart. She advanced on him, her breathing fast and furious.
Pearce blinked. “Niki, stop.” The Slayer stopped dead in her tracks. She frowned. Find the heart...? She shook her head to clear the clouding there. Looking down at the amulet she still clutched in her fist, she blinked.
“Wow,” she said with some awe. “I mean... wow.”
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Hatt stepped out of the still dark building over the piles of death and undead. “I knew you were the one to use it. I knew when I heard there was such a thing as a Slayer.”
Pearce wasn’t so sure. “Niki,” he said calmly, extending his hand, “why don’t you give it to me. There’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.”
Niki scoffed. “Is this too much of a good thing?” she indicated the many not-quite-slain vamps whose hearts awaited her stake. “You’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for this thing.”
“She’s right,” Hatt defended.
“Who are you?” Pearce demanded, turning his attention to the woman, but keeping his hand outstretched.
“Nancy Hatt. Geological consultant,” the woman said defensively.
“Demon?” Pearce prodded. They had dealt with exactly enough demon geologists.
“No. I worked with one though.” She frowned. “We came to New York together. I still can’t find him.”
“Tragic,” Pearce dismissed, “I expect you’ll forget about him eventually.”
This caught Nancy’s attention. “You’ve met him, then?”
“Not that I recall,” Pearce shrugged, taking a step closer to Niki. “Niki, as your friend and Watcher, I’m telling you to give me the medallion.”
“My friend and— What?” she recoiled with a look of disgust. Her eyes searched for the meaning of what he had just said. Finally, she realized he was correct. Ever since Addison had left... it just made too much sense. “Ugh!” she grimaced. “Oh God,” there was really no end to the revulsion that the statement evoked. Perhaps it was that the medallion amplified things, or just that he seemed so perfectly correct all of a sudden that she wanted to throw up. In either case, she relinquished the medallion to his outstretched hand. Shuddering inwardly at the thought that she was, for possibly the first time in her life, complying with her Watcher. As soon as her fingers left the silvery surface, the revulsion died down somewhat. She was now only mildly grossed out. Still, she shivered for effect.
Pearce, ignoring the blatant insult of Niki’s near sickly state, led the Slayer out of the alley. Before he had a chance to fully feel the effects of the medallion he had confiscated, he slipped it safely into his pants pocket. This was going to take some doing.
Logan was deeply, if morosely engrossed in his book, his black turtleneck and jeans betraying his less than social mood.
“Dark magic?” Tom asked, sliding a simple lager towards the man.
“State law,” the man explained, holding up the spine of the thick volume. “I do actually have a job, you know.”
“Course, course,” big Tom nodded, “you do pay me after all.” He laughed a little, but Logan didn’t share the joke. “What’s the matter?” he frowned (a disturbing sight). “Why’re you moping around here? You’ve got a family an’ all that, right?”
Logan’s troubled look increased. Tom caught on and nodded gravely. “Oh, I see. Trouble in paradise?”
“My daughter won’t talk to me any more,” Logan said distantly, trying to concentrate on the words on the page. He looked up and stared at the rows of bottles against the mirror behind the bar. “She sees right through me.”
“Mmm,” Tom nodded. “I’ve had family troubles myself lately,” he said quietly, leaning in closer. He eyed the nearby customers to make sure they weren’t listening. “I’m afraid I might have smothered my own daughter in attention. Anytime she wanted something, I was there.” Logan seemed to frown though he grew interested and leaned in, sharing the conspiracy. “Soon she figured out I was guilty about something,” Tom said sadly. “Loved her too much, I did,” He opened his mouth to go on, but the Biter’s door burst open and Niki and Pearce burst in “—and then I bit her head off,” Tom said loudly and suddenly, “... and showed it to her.” His eyes shifted uncertainly as the other customers seemed as disinterested as ever.
Niki frowned, not sure what that story had been about, but relatively sure it wasn’t appropriate for Logan to hear. Drawing the barkeep’s attention from the again sullen man, she sat at the far end of the bar. “Barkeep,” she commanded, “I want some Stuff.”
Tom obliged and poured some amber liquid into a scotch glass and sprinkled in some of the white powder that was often the only thing that made Niki feel like a Slayer. Not today, however. Today she had rediscovered what a Slayer was meant to feel like. With some of the revulsion she had felt at the thought of Pearce being her Watcher, she acknowledged with a perverse smirk that the thing which made her feel alive was tucked away in Pearce’s pants. Maybe it wouldn’t even seem so perverse with some alcohol in her. Anything was possible. The arousal that slaying caused in her was amplified by the medallion and would soon be amplified again by the drug. She downed the drink without a second thought. In less than ten seconds, she had taken Logan by the arm and was leading him to a room in the back.
“Nice try, by the way,” Pearce said offhand to the barkeep once she was out of earshot.
Tom, who was dropping some ice into Pearce’s water, bitterly raised an eyebrow. “Eh?”
“The government agency you sent after me,” Pearce made a spiteful smile and nodded. “Well played.”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Tom said as if to end the conversation, but Pearce just kept on going.
“Don’t try and deny it. Who are you working for? Fetters? Mault? I don’t remember you personally from the old days.” He drank the water and wished it was something else. Then again, he hated getting drunk in public. It was simple humiliation that lost him his title of Prince.
“Couldn’t say,” Tom shrugged. “Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Some government agency,” Pearce explained, “busted down my doors last night, thought I was some two bit vampimp.” The term made Tom smirk. Pearce noticed and nodded. “Yeah, ha ha. You owe me new doors.”
“Wouldn’t know what you’re talking about,” Tom continued to deny everything, serving a nearby customer without ever having met the vampire’s gaze. When the customer was served, Tom returned to the accusing vampire. “The Council’s been out of contact for a while. Without them directing things... agencies get a little mixed up.”
“Or maybe tips from meddling barkeeps get them a little mixed up,” Pearce suggested acidly. Leaning forward to catch Tom’s full attention, the vampire glanced around to ensure neither Niki nor Logan were around. “Listen... buddy,” the vampire said between gritted teeth. “What I do in my own apartment is my own business. If I want to have a little party... have a few people over, that’s my business. If they want a little action — that’s between me and them. Got it?”
“Between you and them?” Tom inquired. “Is the Slayer ever at your parties?” He looked over the vampire’s shoulder in the direction Niki had gone. “Maybe she just didn’t get the invite...”
Pearce took the enormous Tom by the lapels and had to kneel on his bar stool to get into the tall demon’s face. “Is that a threat?”
Tom shrugged, effectively freeing himself of the vampire’s grip. “Why? Did you find it threatening?”
Pearce sat back on the stool with a thunk. “I’m watching you,” the vamp said coldly.
Logan grunted as he was shoved against the back wall of the dim back room. When the Slayer came at him, he wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or kill him. Niki wanted to do a bit of each. Certainly more than kill him... and definitely more than kiss him. Words like Rat Bastard and Jerkoff were rolling off her tongue as she approached him, horny and resentful. She had dumped him, true, but he was taking it fairly well, wasn’t he? And he had a life to go back to. She had never realized how much of her life Logan had occupied.
When her hot body finally got to his, however, he had had time to compose himself. With a strength unknown to most of his gender, he resisted her, as if she were his cousin coming on to him. Prying her body from his, he staggered several paces away, failing to prevent a contemptuous expression from crossing his face.
Niki raised her eyebrows with a flare of fury. “Is that how it is?” she demanded. “I’m not good enough for you anymore?”
Logan frowned and backed away, his arms up defensively, not sure what kind of drugs she was on, since Stuff generally didn’t do this. Before he could even offer a consoling argument, she landed her fist between his eyebrows and sent him unconscious to the floor. Her blood pounded and her muscles twitched. She needed to kill something. Something undead.
Tom looked over Pearce’s shoulder as the Slayer approached, her eyes shifting quickly in their sockets. Pearce followed the barkeep’s gaze and with a spike of pain was enveloped in darkness.
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